


Hospitals Lie

by Moji_The_Potato



Category: Hamilton - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Angst with slight fluff, Car Accidents, F/M, I’m sorry, M/M, i don’t know how to tag things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-03
Updated: 2018-11-03
Packaged: 2019-08-16 21:01:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16502645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moji_The_Potato/pseuds/Moji_The_Potato
Summary: Because nothing good comes from hospitals. Hospitals are just places where people go to die.





	Hospitals Lie

**Author's Note:**

> I’m sorry, but I still hope you enjoy!  
> I don’t know their middle names so I just used random ones, hope y’all don’t mind.  
>  \- Moji

There’s nothing good about hospitals. They’re just places that people go to die.

»»————-　　————-««

Thomas Jefferson hated hospitals. He hated them with an absolute passion. He thought -- no. He knew that hospitals didn’t help anyone. He knew they did more harm than good. That they existed for people to die in a place they thought was helping them.

Him and Martha both shared that sentiment. Growing up around hospitals, they both had seen people go in and never come out, they had witnessed the faces of crying family members, the sound of the heart monitor flatlining and making that awful, drawn out beep that no one wanted to hear. They both knew that when someone went into a hospital it wasn’t for them to get better, it was for a false sense of hope that they would. But they never did.

Thomas Jefferson knew just how well hospitals lied.

So when Martha knew that she was going to die, she didn’t go to a hospital. She sat in their bed, waiting out the last of her days by his side in peace. No bustling nurses or doctors who used big, fancy language. And that was where she died, after two years of blissful marriage, she left him in their own bed. And left him alone no less, with no kids, no family, no pets, no anything. The only memory he had left of her were the pictures he had in a box that sat on the floor in his closet.

He was torn after her death. She was the light of his life, his rock, his other half. As the months went by, his skin became dull and massive bags grew under his eyes. He gained weight from not exercising and lost weight from not eating. His breath suffered because he couldn’t drag himself out of bed early enough to brush his teeth. He tried to act like he always did when people would talk to him, he really did, but he couldn’t put up the act for long. Thomas thought he would never find anyone else to love again and that he lost lost the only person he could ever truly love.

But, of course, life works in funny ways. And so he met James.

James Madison was on the shorter side, and he was a good few years younger than Thomas too. And while it wasn’t that much of an age gap, it looked like one due to Thomas’ poor state of self care. Thomas’ hair had grown to his shoulders and was ratty and oily, while James’ was cropped short, was clean, and always smelled like coconut. Thomas got little to no sleep a night while James got eight hours a night.

James not only had differences with Thomas, but him and Martha were polar opposites. Martha was a ball of energy who never stopped talking about life and how beautiful it was, while James was quiet and only gave his opinion every once in a while. James had a knack for being a bit of a neat freak while Martha was very disorganized and all over the place. The only thing they seemed to have in common was the ability to read and understand people.

James was the opposite of Martha, but Thomas fell for him anyway.

And James fell in love with him too.

Somehow James managed to see passed the dull eyes and skin, the monotone voice that made him sound like he was always tired, which he was. He knew when Thomas needed space and didn’t care about his breath when he was having his mopey days. Somehow, James didn’t care about how much of a mess he was.

Thomas liked to give himself credit and say he cared for James just as much. James was sickly and was prone to getting colds and strep throat. He coughed constantly and the poor man always seemed congested -- he even carried nasal spray in his laptops cases’ extra pocket. And whenever he was sick, despite trying to hide it from Thomas the first few times, Thomas liked to play nurse and take care of him. James found it endearing but also extremely annoying because Thomas would be feeding him soup when all he wanted to do was sleep.

James slowly but surely made Thomas into a new and better person than he was before. He was still rash, opinionated, stubborn, and cocky, just as he was before Martha died, but now he was also able to express what was always kept behind closed doors: the sensitive, caring, humorous, and as James would call him, man-child.

And soon a year of this passed, and another, and another. It was the evening of their third anniversary when it happened. 5 years together, three of them spent officially dating. And Thomas, taking small steps, was planning on asking James to move in. And tonight was that night. Their third anniversary.

Thomas had made reservations at James’ favorite restaurant and couldn’t sit still in his office all day due to anticipation. And as soon as his hours were up, he grabbed his bag, haphazardly put on his jacket and made his way to the elevator that was, conveniently, only a few paces from his office. He waved to Angelica, his coworker, as he passed her. She gave a smile as she waved back. “Watch out for traffic, heard there was an accident off of 306 earlier. Like less than an hour ago too,” he nodded, thinking nothing of her words.

His phone started buzzing as soon as he stepped out of the elevator when it reached the garage level. Thomas pulled it out and didn’t recognize the number, but he answered it anyway. “Hello?”

“Hello, is this Mr. Thomas Jefferson?” The man’s voice was gravelly and toneless. “This is Dr. Adams, from Yorktown Hospital. We are speaking on behalf of a Mr. James Madison?” Thomas’ breath hitched and his heart dropped to his stomach.

“I, uh, yes, this him, that’s me, I am Thomas Jefferson. What happened to James?”

“Mr. Madison was in a car accident earlier, just a mile or so away from the 306 freeway.” Anne’s words came back to him, _heard_ _there_ _was_ _an_ _accident_ _off_ _of_ _306_. That was the way James would go back to his apartment after he finished working. “He was in and out of consciousness when the ambulance arrived and hasn’t stopped asking for you since he was pulled out of the car. It just so happened that you were listed as his emergency contact.” Thomas’ emotions were taught and his voice wobbly as he spoke.

“Thank you, Dr. Adams, I will be there as soon as I can.” the rest of the world seemed to vanish as he continued to his car with only one thing on his mind: James. If James was okay, if he was going to be okay, how he was in a _hospital_. The very place that he had despised since he was a child.

He sped to the hospital, making sure to stay at a safe speed, they didn’t need another accident tonight. “Hold on, Jem, I’m on my way.” He pulled into the hospital parking lot and pulled into the first spot he saw. He was too distraught to check his parking job, he just opened the car door and all but sprinted to the entrance.

The room was calm and quiet. White ceramic tiled adorned the ground and the walls were a corduroy color. He saw a small room with a sign that read ‘Gift Shop’ in curly, fancy looking letters. Inside the display window were small balloons on sticks that expressed congratulations on the boy or girl, wishing people happy birthday or nicely demanding that the person receiving the balloon to ‘get well soon’. There were teddy bears and cards, but his only focus was on seeing James. His James, who was _hurt_. He briskly walked to the front desk and was greeted by a petite woman in a yellow sweater, her curly hair pulled up neatly into a ponytail. Her eyes were kind, her smile gentle. “How may I help y-”

“James Madison. Please.”

“Are you family?” Her voice was soft and smooth and her eyes bored into him, it was like she _knew_. His plan to lie and say he was his brother died in his head as soon as the words hit his ears. He slouched a bit more, adrenaline wearing down as he process how soothing her voice was.

“I,” the emotions hit him, hard. “I’m the closest thing he’s got, ma’am.” Her smile turned sad and she typed something into her computer.

“I’ll inform Dr. Adams, he’ll either come down himself or send a nurse to come and get you when Mr. Madison is done getting cleaned up.” He nodded, taking a breath and trying to calm his heartbeat. He turned around to sit in the small sitting area on the other side of the room. “Oh, and sir? Please, ma’am is too formal. Please, call me Peggy.” Thomas gave as much of a smile as he could.

“Well, I’ll keep that in mind next time I see you, Miss Peggy. And please, if I may use no formalities to you, than you shall use none for me. Call me Thomas.” He saluted as she shook her head and turned back to her computer. Thomas sat down in the chair, it was cold and uncomfortable. The cushion, which was under a cover of fake, purple leather, let out a puff of air as he sat down and put his weight on it. He placed his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands, breathing became hard and the breaths that he did take were shaky from trying not to cry.

Now, Thomas wasn’t a very religious man. He grew up in a very Catholic family and went to church every sunday, but as soon as he moved out he stopped going. He never really prayed after he left his home nearly 15 years ago, but here he was, whispering the good Lord above. His mom would be so proud.

_Heavenly_ _Lord_ , _if_ _you_ _are_ _real_ , _I_ _beg_ _of_ _you_ _to_ _please_ _let_ _James_ _live_. _I_ _know_ _that_ _I’m_ _asking_ _for_ _a_ _selfish_ _favor_ , _but_ _he_ _deserves_ _to_ _live_. _He_ _has_ _so_ _much_ _he_ _has_ _yet_ _to_ _do_ , _like_ _get_ _his_ _raise_ _or_ _publish_ _his_ _book_. _He_ _has_ _family_ , _his_ _younger_ _sisters_ _Lizzie_ _and_ _Nelly_ , _even_ _if_ _they_ _don’t_ _see_ _each_ _other_ _a_ _lot_. _He_ _has_ _friends_ _that_ _need_ _him_ , _he_ _has_ _me_. _Especially_ _me_. _He_ _can’t_ _go_ _yet_ , _he_ _can’t_. _I_ _beg_ _of_ _you_ , _with_ _every_ _fiber_ _of_ _my_ _very_ _being_ , _that_ _you_ _give_ _James_ _Madison_ _a_ _second_ _chance_ _at_ _life_. _In_ _the_ _name_ _of_ _the_ _Father_ , _the_ _Son_ , _and_ _the_ _Holy_ _Spirit_ , _amen_.

“Mr. Jefferson?” He looked up to see a shorter man, he had brown hair that was cropped at the ears, giving him almost a bowl-cut style, and he was a little bit on the stouter side. “I’m Dr. Adams, we spoke on the phone.” He held out his hand and Thomas shook it. “I don’t know if you know anything about the accident, but Mr. Madison’s car was hit on the driver’s side door, making the damage worse than it would have been if it had happened on the other side.”

“Yes, yes, but where is he? _How_ is he?” Thomas braced himself for the worst.

“His spine was severely damaged on impact, several of his ribs and his neck are broken, and shards of glass from the windshield have entered and punctured some of his organs. He’s lost a good amount of blood, but we have him on IVs to help replace some that he lost. There isn’t much chance of survival, but there’s still a decent possibility. Should he survive, he might never be able to use his legs or have full range of motion through bending down or moving his neck. He’s unconscious, but would you like to see him?” Thomas nodded and followed Dr. Adams. He kept his eyes on the tiles, and how they went from a plain white ceramic to white with black specks. The walls slowly changed from corduroy to a white that looked almost a pale blue in the fluorescent lights on the ceiling.

They passed patients in wheelchairs, on crutches, family members smiling with each other, others heard crying in their rooms. They went up stairwells, turned corners, and they ended up at a small room, the door open. Thomas said a thank you and took a few breaths, not wanting to go in. he was still holding a small bit of hope that it was all just a dream and that it wasn’t real.

But he went in anyway. And what he saw made his heart nearly stop. He wanted to burst out crying but he was afraid he’d wake James, and James needed his rest right now. He was skeptical before of the doctor telling him that James might live, but now he was ten times more skeptical. Hospitals were a place of lies and false hope, where doctors and nurses spoke in honeyed voices and gave fake smiles.

Thomas sat down in the chair next to James’ bed. It was more comfortable than the chair in the lobby, but not by much. The only sound in the room was the beeping of the heart monitor. He kissed James’ forehead and grabbed his hand. “Oh Jem, I hope it’s better than it looks.”

“You’re just upset that I still look better than you do,” a small, timid voice made itself heard. It was hoarse, nearly croaking out words, but it was there. Thomas smiled, tears now flowing down his face out of happiness and relief. James’ eyes were still closed, but Thomas could see the smile on his face. He let out a weak chuckle.

“Of course. You’ll always look better than I do. No contest there.”James squeezed his hand and Thomas squeezed back before kissing it.

“I’m sorry Tommy.”

“For what, Jem?”

“I ruined our anniversary.” Thomas nearly gasped, but swallowed it before squeezing James’ hand again.

“You did nothing or the sort! The jerk that was going thirty over the speed limit and hit you ruined our anniversary. Not you, and don’t you dare think that it was you.” James gave another smile, which made Thomas smile in response. They sat in silence, just sitting there holding each others hand like it was tethering them together. Thomas was afraid that if he let go that it would be like letting James go. And he didn’t want to do that. He never wanted to do that.

“Tom?” He looked at James, whose eyes were open now, and gave a sad smile. “I just wanna say that I love you, and these five years have been the best of my life.” Thomas’ smile disappeared. James was trying to say goodbye.

“James, no, no, baby, Jem, no. No goodbyes. Not yet. I’m not, not ready for any goodbyes yet.” James sat up as best he could. Thomas could see that it was causing him pain to do so, but James had that look on his face. The look of pure determination that he wore when he was going to do something and wouldn’t let anyone stop him.

“Well then, don’t think of it as a goodbye. Think of it as, well, I don’t know what else you should think of it as, but don’t think of it was a goodbye. Now,” James paused to cough, “now, Thomas Matthew Jefferson, thank you for the life you have given me for these past five years. Thank you for being there every time I was sick, every time I had writers block or needed to talk about my day. Thank you for helping me grow into the person I am. Thank you for being you, and being my person. I love you, so much, Thomas. So. Much.” James grabbed his other hand and squeezed both of them. “Happy anniversary.”

“Well. James Raymond Madison Junior. Let me tell you. You, good sir, are the best person that I have ever had the privilege to meet. You came into my life when I was in a bad place, and helped me not only get out of that place, but gave me a life worth living. You turned my life upside down, James. You gave me a best friend and a great partner. You never pushed me, you saw the good parts of me even though all I would show was the bad, and it’s like you were just meant to be in my life. You fit perfectly. You, James Madison, are my soulmate. My living, breathing soulmate. I love you more than life, and death, itself.” He helped James lay back down to he wasn’t sitting anymore. “And James, I’m a selfish man, when I really love something, want something, I take it. I keep it. And I love you. I am not ready to give you up, to let you go. James, I am not ready for goodbyes-”

“But these aren’t goodbyes.”

“And I’m not ready for goodbyes-but-not-technically-goodbyes either, I love you James. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. And nothing will ever change that. I love you, Jem. Happy anniversary.” Thomas was crying. Bawling like a darn baby. But when he mustered up enough courage to look down at James, he was crying too. Thomas kissed James’ forehead again and sighed. “I love you, Jem.”

“I love you too, Tommy.” It was whispered and soft. And while James was normally soft-spoken, this sounded too soft. But before Thomas could react or ask, a monotonous sound filled the room. Doctors and nurses filled the room and pushed him out into the hallway. He watched through the doorway as they tried desperately to revive James, but to no avail. James was dead, he was gone.

Thomas walked back down to the lobby alone. He ignored the nurses who apologized, the doctors who tried to tell him it was a miracle that he made it that long. He ignored the pitying glances of others in the hallway. Peggy as she tried to talk to him before he walked out the door. He ignored them all.

Well, all except a little girl who stopped him before he could get into his car. She told him that he thought he looked sad and that he deserved her balloon more than her. She had handed him one of the balloons on sticks, it was a happy birthday one. He smiled as best he could at the girl and said thank you before getting into his car.

He sat there for a while, not wanting to leave, in hopes one of the doctors would come out and say that they managed to revive him. By the time an hour had passed, Thomas decided it was best to go home.

The drive home was long, quiet, and painful. Right now, him and James should be heading home from dinner, belting out lyrics to ABBA songs, James smiling and laughing and bouncing in his seat, not lying dead in some hospital morgue.

But, of course, life works in funny ways. So he was driving home alone.

When he got home, he fell straight onto his couch and immediately he noticed something stabbing at his upper thigh. He sat up and pulled whatever was in his pocket out. It was James’ key. He held it to his chest and cried. He had hoped that, for once, the doctor wasn’t lying. That James actually had a _chance_. But of course he was wrong.

_Because nothing good comes from hospitals. Hospitals are just places where people go to die._


End file.
